"They must have beenl Surely they wouldn't have built them into those walls otherwise-"

"Ours were not. In fact, Rotherberg said that he didn't believe they could be."

"Do you mean," Kincar demanded, "that they could take off in those ships right now, as the Star Lords did in our Gorth?"

"It would solve a lot of our problems if they would do just that, but I hardly think they will oblige us by trying it."

Lord Dillan did not answer that. He continued to hold the gla.s.ses to his eyes as if memorizing every detail of the ships. "No arrivals for a long time now," remarked Lord Bardon. "Do you suppose they are all here?"

"It would appear so. We'll wait until morning to be sure." Lord Dillan was still on watch. "We'll camp and leave a scout to keep an eye on them."

The camp was a temporary affair, set up in a gulch, with a heat box to provide them with the equivalent of a fire and journey rations to eat. Kincar took his turn at scout duty close to dawn. There had been no more arrivals at the ship-towers in the darkness, and the party from the hold concluded that all the Dark Ones must be in the fortress.

"We could use double our numbers," Lord Bardon remarked as they broke their fast.

"I could wish more for Rotherberg of Lacee." "Hmm." Lord Bardon gazed hard at Lord Dillan. "Still thinking of that, are you? But none of us are engineers-we would not stand here if we were. Those who had that in their blood chose to go with the ships."

"Nevertheless, I believe we should keep the idea in mind!" "Oh, that we shall do." Lord Bardon laughed. "Should I chance upon the proper controls, I shall set them for a take-off. Meanwhile, the escape hatches seem the best entrances- we should be able to reach them from the tops of those *walls. Shall we head for the nearest?"

"We shall. And before it grows too light." Again the flier was pressed into ferry service, transporting their small band across the waste to the base of one of the corridor walls close to the foot of the nearest ship-tower. Lord Sim swung overhead a rope with a hook attached-twin to the weapon Murren had used. The p.r.o.ngs caught on the top of the wall and held against his heaviest tugs, and by the rope they climbed up. Lord Tomm planted himself with his back against the smooth side of the ancient ship, bracing his feet a little apart to take weight, and the lighter Lord Jon stood on his shoulders, facing inward so that he could touch an oval outline that showed faintly on the ship. With a tool from his belt he traced that outline carefully, and then pushed. It took two such tracings to cut through the sealing, but at last the door came free and they were in the ship.

Kincar was the third inside, sniffing again that odd musty odor of the silent tower. But Lord Frans, following him, gave an exclamation of surprise as he stood in the corridor.

"This is the Morris!"

"Their Morris," corrected Lord Dillan. "You can guide us, Frans. This is twin to your father's ship-"

"The control chamber-" Lord Frans frowned at the wall. "It has been so many years. Aye, we'll want that first"

"Why?" Lord Jon wanted to know. He was looking about him with some of Kincar's curiosity. Himself two generations younger than the original s.p.a.ce travelers, the ships were almost as strange^ to him as they were to the half-Gorthian.

"If she is still activated, we will be able to use the scanner."

While that meant nothing to Kincar, it apparently did to the others.

Lord Frans guided them, not to a center well ladder-stair such as Kincar and his captors had used, but to a narrower and more private way, hardly large enough for the Star men to negotiate. The steps were merely loops of metal on which to rest toes and fingers. They went up and up until Lord Frans disappeared through a well opening and Lord Bardon after him. Then Kincar climbed into one of the most bewildering rooms he had ever seen.

There were four padded, cushioned objects, which were a cross between a seat and a bunk. Each was swung on a complicated base of springs and yielding supports before banks of levers and b.u.t.tons to which the controls of the small flier were the playthings of a child. Above each of these boards was a wide oblong of opaque stuff, mirrors that reflected nothing in the room. Kincar remained where he was, a little overawed by this array of Star magic, with a feeling that to press the wrong b.u.t.ton here might send them all off into s.p.a.ce.

Lord Dillan walked across the chamber. "Astrogator." He dropped his hand on the back of one of those odd seats, and it trembled under the slight pressure. "Pilot," he indicated another. "Astro-Pilot." That was the third. "Corn-Tech." The fourth and last was the seat Lord Dillan chose to sit in.

As soon as his weight settled in the chair-bed, the bank of b.u.t.tons slid noiselessly forward so it was well within his reach. He was in no hurry to put it to use, deliberating over his choice before he pressed a b.u.t.ton. Above the control bank that square mirror flashed rippling bars of yellow light, and Lord Jon broke out eagerly, "She is still alive?"

"At least the corns are in." Again the words meant nothing to Kincar. But he would have paid little attention to any speech at the moment. He was too intrigued by what was happening on the screen. It was as if Lord Dillan had opened a window. Spread out there was a wide picture of the wastelands and the mountain range as they existed outside the ship.

He had only an instant to make identification before that picture changed, and they were looking at a room crowded with a ma.s.s of metal parts and machines he could not have set name to- "Engine room," breathed Lord Jon softly, wonderingly.

Another movement of Lord Dillan's finger, and they had a new view- a place of tanks, empty, dusty, long disused.

"Hydro-"

So they inspected the vitals of the ship, cabin to cabin. But in all their viewing nothing was living, nor was there any indication that anyone had been there for a very long time. At last Lord Dillan leaned back, sending his support jiggling.

"She is not the one-"

Lord Bardon was studying the banks of controls fronting the pilot's seat. "They would be more likely to hole up in the Gangee. After all she was the flag ship. Hm- " He did not sit down in the pilot's place but leaned across to move a lever. There was a brilliant flash of red in a small bulb there, and from somewhere about them a voice rasped in the speech of the Star ways.

"She's still hot!" Lord Jon exploded. Lord Dillan smiled, a chill smile that Kincar knew he would not care to have turned in his direction.

"And she will be hotter." He arose and crossed to join Lord Bardon. "Five hours ought to give us time enough. Let us see now-" He counted levers and studs, peered closely at dials, and then his hands flew, weaving a pattern over the board. "Let us be on the way now. We'll try the Gangee next."

"She'll lift?" demanded Lord Tomm.

"She'll certainly try. In any event she'll wreck this part of the building."

They made their way back to the wall top, out into the early morning sunshine. Lord Dillan pivoted, examining each of the other towers.

"Might as well split up now. Jon, you and Rodric, Sim and Tomm, get in those other end ships. If they are empty, set them to blow-five hours from now or thereabouts. Bring with you any of"-he rattled off a string of queer words incomprehensible to Kincar-"you come across in their store rooms. We'll try for the Gangee."

They nodded and separated, heading for different ships.

XVIII.

ONCE MORE A GATE.

THERE WAS A different "feel" to the Gangee. They made their entrance through the old escape port of the ship without opposition or discovery. But, as they cl.u.s.tered together at the foot of the ladder to the control cabin, even Kincar was conscious of a faint heat radiating from the walls about them, a lack of dead air long sealed in.

"This is the one." Lord Bardon was satisfied.

"Controls again?" Lord Frans wanted to know.

"Just so!" The words were bitten off as if Lord Dillan was reluctant to make that climb. Did he think they might find others occupying that chamber?

But he sped up the ladder, Lord Bardon at his heels, and the rest strung out behind. They climbed by closed doors on every level. And twice Kincar, brushing against the inner fabric with his shoulder, felt a vibration through the ship, like a beat of motive power.

The control cabin, when they reached it, was, at first inspection, very little different from that of the Morris-the same four chairs, the same banks of controls, the same vision plates above them. Once more Lord Dillan seated himself in the Corn-Tech's place and pressed a stud. They glimpsed the outside world, and then the picture changed. The engine room-but this one was not silent, dust-shrouded. Rods moved on dials set in casing. The Hydro garden was stretches of green stuff growing, and the Star Lords were surprised.

"Do you think they are planning a take-off?" asked Lord Jon.

"More likely they keep the Gangee in blast condition as a symbol," Lord Dillan replied. "Which may be their salvation HOW-"

Once more the picture flickered and cleared. Kincar started. It was so vivid, so clear, that he had the sensation of looking through an open window into a crowded room, for it was crowded.

An exclamation in his own tongue burst from Lord Frans, echoed by one from Lord Jon. It was an a.s.semblage of the Dark Ones they spied upon.

"You- Great Spirit of s.p.a.ce! Dillan, there you are!" Lord Bardon's voice shook as he identified one of those men. "And Rud- that is truly Rudl Lacee- Mac- Bart- but Bart's dead! He died of the spinning fever years ago. And- and- " His face was a gray-white now beneath its weathered brown, his eyes wide, stricken. "Alis- Dillan, it's Alls!" He flung away toward the other door of the chamber.

Lord Dillan barked an order, sharp enough to send Kincar moving. The other Star Lords were frozen, hypnotized. by what they saw. Only to Kincar to whom it was just a company of aliens did that command have meaning.

"Stop him! Don't let him leave this cabin!"

Lord Bardon was a third again his size, and Kincar did not know how he could obey, but there was no mistaking the frantic urgency of the order. He hurled himself across the door, clasping the stay rods on either wide, imposing his body between Lord Bardon and the portal. Lord Dillan was hurrying to them, but he did not reach there before his fellow had crashed into Kincar, slamming the half-Gorthian back painfully against the ship metal, before he began tearing at him, trying to drag him away.

A hand caught at Lord Bardon, brought him partly around, and then a palm struck first one cheek and then the other in a head-rocking duo of slaps.

"Bardon!"

Lord Bardon staggered, that strained stare in his eyes beginning to break. Lord Dillan spoke swiftly in their own language until Lord Bardon gave a broken little cry and covered his face with both hands. Then Lord Dillan turned to the others.

"They are not there, understand?" He spoke with a slow and heavy emphasis, designed to drive every word not only into their ears, but also into their minds. "Those down there are not the ones we know-knew. I am not that Dillan, nor is he me."

Lord Jon caught a quivering underlip between his teeth. He was still watching the screen longingly, and Lord Dillan spoke directly to him.

"That is not your father you see there, Jon. Keep that in mind! This I know." He swung upon them all. "We must have no speech with these, for our sakes-perhaps for theirs. There is only one thing to do. They have poisoned this Gorth, as we to a lesser extent poisoned ours. And now they must go forth from it-"

He had laid his hand on the back of the pilot's seat when Bardon spoke hoa.r.s.ely.

"You can't blast them off without any warning!"

"We will not. But they shall only have enough to ensure their lives during take-off. There must be payment for what has been done here-the risk they shall run in entering exile will be toward the settlement of that account."

The Star Lords were occupied with their problem, but Kincar had been watching the screen again. Now he ventured to interrupt.

"Lord, are they able to see us as we do them?"

Dillan whirled, his head up, to front the vision plate. There could be no mistake; the party they spied upon were quiet, all heads turned to face the screen. And the blank astonishment of most of their expressions was altering to concern. That other Lord Dillan moved, advancing toward them, until his head alone covered three-quarters of the plate.

It was something out of a troubled dream to see one Dillan stare at the other, if only from a screen. A huge hand moved across the corner of the plate and was gone again. Then a Voice boomed out above them, speaking the Star tongue. Dillan, their Dillan, snapped a small switch beneath the plate and made answer. Then his hand swept down breaking contact, both eye and voice.

"We have little time," he said unhurriedly. "Dog that door so that they may not enter until they burn through-"

It was Lord Frans and Lord Jon who obeyed. Lord Bardon remained by the pilot's chair-until Dillan turned on him.

"We shall give them more than just a slim chance, Bard. Once in s.p.a.ce they can make a fresh start. We are not dooming them-"

"I know-I know! But will the ship lift? Or will it-" His voice faded to a half whisper.

"Now," Dillan told them all, "get out-away from here- as fast as you can move!"

Kincar was on the1 ladder. The fear of being trapped and torn skyward was very real. Lord Jon and Lord Frans came after him. All three were in the outer air before Lord Bardon joined them. And he lingered in the hatch, one hand on the rope, waiting.

They were hailed by the other parties. Lord Jon waved them off with wild arm signals. Then Lord Bardon dropped from the hatch and a last silver figure appeared in the oval opening. He brought that door to behind him and slid down the rope.

"Run, you fools!" he shouted, and Kincar found himself pounding away from the Gangee along the top of the wall. He had no idea how a s.p.a.ce ship, especially one built up by masonry would take off, but he could guess that the results would be earthshaking at ground leVel.

A large arm clamped a viselike grip about his waist, and Lord Dillan gasped, "Jump now, son!"

He was borne along by the other from the top of the wall. They hit hard and rolled. Then he was punched into a ball half under the other's bulk as the ground under them rocked and broke. There was the clamor of mistreated metal, the rumble of a world coming to an end, and a flash so brilliant that it blinded him-to be followed by a clap of noise and a silence so complete that it was as if all sound had been reft away.

Broken lumps of stone rained noiselessly from the sky. There was no sound at all. Kincar struggled free of a hold that was now only a limp weight. He sat up shakily, his head ringing, red and orange jags of light darting back and forth before his eyes when he tried to focus on his surroundings. His groping hands were on warm flesh, and then on stickiness that clung to his fingers. He rubbed impatiently at his eyes, trying to clear them. But, above all else, the dead silence was frightening.

He could see now, if only dimly. Red crawled sluggishly over a silver back beside his knee. Dazed, he rubbed his eyes again. A ringing began in his ears, worse when he moved, making it very hard to think- But he could move. Kincar bent over the quiet body beside him. There was a gash on the shoulder, a tear in both the silver clothing and the flesh beneath it. Already the bleeding was growing less. Cautiously he tried to move the other, exposing Lord Dillan's face slack and pale. The Star Lord was still breathing. Kincar steadied the heavy head on his arm and ripped open the sealing of the tunic. Under his fingers there was a steady heart beat, though it seemed too slow. The flier- if he could find the flier and the supplies on it- Kincar settled Dillan's head back on the ground and stumbled to his feet. He had an odd sensation that if he moved too suddenly he might fly apart.

Before he could turn away, another silver figure hunched up from the ground. He could see Lord Jon's mouth open and shut in a grimed face, but he could not hear a word the other said. Then others ran toward them. Miraculously they had all survived the blast-off of the Gangee, though for long, anxious moments they were afraid that Bardon had been lost. He was discovered at last, stunned, but still alive, on the other side of a cracked and riven wall.

Kincar was deafened, unable to understand the others as they gathered at the flier. Dillan, revived, bandaged, and propped up against a heap of rubble, was giving orders. Both Jon and Bardon were unable to walk without support, and the rest were busy exploring the remaining ships and coming back to report to Dillan. Twice they brought boxes to be piled at the improvised camp site.

Lord Frans used the flier to ferry their spoil and the injured to a point well out in the waste, several miles from the ship-towers. Where the Gangee had formed the core of the queer structure, there was now a vast crater, avoided by the Star men, smoking in the morning air. And the walls that had tied it to its sister ships were riven, reduced to gravel-rubble in places. Studying the remains, Kincar marveled that any one of them had survived. He might have been even more deeply impressed by their good fortune had he possessed the information shared by the men around him.

"-took off to the mountains-"

He had been watching soundlessly moving lips so long, with a growing frustration, that at first he did not realize he had caught those words, faint as a whisper, through the din in his head. Lord Frans was making a report of some importance, judging by the demeanor of those about him.

Men scattered to the ships at a trot, and the flier returned. Lord Dillan and Kincar were motioned aboard her, to be transported to the mid-point camp. Then the others came in groups until they were all well away from the ship-towers. They must have triggered the other ships, all of them. Those slim silver towers would follow the Gangee out into s.p.a.ce, untenanted and derelict.

Again his ears cleared, and he caught a sharp hail. A string of mounted men were riding out in the waste, the party from the hold. They rode at a full gallop, as men might go into battle, and Vulth spurred well ahead, a Vulth shouting news as he came. He threw himself from his mount and ran up, to skid to a stop before Lord Dillan, his aspect wild.

"That demon-the one with your form, Lord-he has turned the freed slaves against us!"

Kincar noted an empty saddle among the oncoming party. Where was Jonathal? Two of the other men were wounded. "They will circle back to the hold-"

Lord Dillan cut through that crisply. "Aye, that is his wisest move. So we must get there speedily. Frans, you take the controls-Sim-"

"Not you, Dillan!" That was Lord Bardon's protest. "Most certainly me! Who else can face him so successfully and reveal him to be what he is? And"-his eyes went to Kincar-"and you, Kincar. This may be the time, guardian, for you to use that power-"

Dillan's energy got them on the flier after a flood of orders had sent the mounted party around to come at the hold from the plains side with the remainder of the Star Lords in their company, leaving the wounded, Lord Bardon and Lord Jon to stay at the waste camp and check on the blast-off of the rest of the ships.

The flier lifted over the ridge, heading straight for the hold. Lord Frans pushed the limping motor to its utmost, and there was no talk among the men in her. A familiar peak cut the sky before them-they were almost to the valley.

"He'll use your face as his pa.s.sport," Lord Sim commented.

"Asgar will know the truth."

Aye, the Lady Asgar would be able to tell true from false, but could she distinguish that in time? And how had the False Lord Dillan managed to get out of the Ganges before she blasted into s.p.a.ce? Kincar speculated concerning that, ( but, having seen the preoccupation of his companions, f; thought it better not to ask for any explanations. [ From the air the hold appeared to be as it always had i, been-until one marked a body lying before the door of the main hall in the courtyard. Save for that grim sight there was no other sign of life-or death.

Frans brought the flier down in the courtyard. Now the ringing in Kincar's ears could not blot out the clamor issuing from the hall. He was on his feet, his sword in hand, but he had not moved faster than Lord Dillan. And running side by side they entered the core of the hold.

A handful of Gorthians, the women among them, were backed against the far wall-but they were aimed and waiting. Towering among them stood the Lady Asgar. And she faced a silver figure who was the duplicate of the man beside Kincar. Fan-wise behind the false lord was a rabble of ex-slaves. Kapal, writhing feebly as if he would still be on his feet to match blades, lay with the Lady Asgar's people. And beside her, half-crouched to spring at the false Dillan's throat, was Kathal s'Rud.

The hold people were at bay, held so by the weapon the false lord fingered-the blaster with which he had once threatened Kincar. One of the slaves in his tail caught sight of the new party. His mouth opened on a scream of undisguised terror, and he flung himself to the floor, beating his fists against the stone pavement and continuing the yammering screech, which went on and on. His fellows cowered away, first from him, and then from their erstwhile leader as they saw the other Lord Dillan.

Even one with an iron will could not keep his attention from wandering at that interruption. The false lord glanced once to what lay behind him, giving those he held in check their chance. The Lady Asgar was at him in a fury, striving to wrest from him the blaster, while Kathal and Lord Jon's eldest son leaped to her support.

The rest of the party from the flier rushed in. Dillan, fresh stains of red seeping out on his bandaged shoulder, faced himself-but the likeness between them was no longer mirror-exact, for the Dillan of this Gorth snarled, his face awry in a grimace of rage. Asgar had torn the weapon from him. Now his bare hands reached for his rival's throat.